


No One Is On Our Side

by Emono



Series: The Lost Boys Series [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Asexual Character, Daddy Kink, Gangs, M/M, Piercings, Power Play, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are tight knit and true to each other, blood brothers and bedmates and sealed in a bond deeper than could be explained. They are a family, a pack, and they hunt on the scent of cash and the thrill of getting away with it. San Andreas can't handle them,  rival gangs can't handle them, and the police? Please. They can't keep up. </p><p>A glimpse into the Fake AH crew through the eyes of Gavin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Is On Our Side

** Prologue <3 **

 

* * *

It was a rare, calm night in the Fake AH safehouse. They were laying low for a while after a big steal from a bank a city over and Geoff had declared it was time for some rest. Michael had his feet kicked up on the coffee table and a controller in his lap, lids heavy as he fucked around in GTA. Geoff had created a map on here that mimicked their last big heist and he was fooling around, fucking everything up to counter his near-perfect execution in real life. It had started as just a playful run through but Gavin had joined the game and now there were enough sticky bombs everywhere to blow the entire city block sky high.

  
  


The Brit had folded himself up beside Michael, resting his back against the other’s arm and tucking his mile long legs close. His head was dropped back to rest on Michael’s shoulder as he lazily tapped at the buttons to blow them both (and a shit ton of cops) sky high. There was an occasional yawn but they were both enjoying themselves. 

  
  


Michael turned his head and looked down at his boyfriend, smiling warmly at just how fucking cute he was. He liked Gavin no matter what, but when the other was all sleepy and worn out like this he was damn near irresistible. His heart gave a pang but it was a good, affectionate ache. He could still remember two years ago when it had just been them, before even Jack had fully joined the gang and was still on the payroll as an informant. It was just Gavin and Geoff at first, then Michael had gotten snatched up and dragged into bed with them. Literally. They had been Geoff’s boys (still were), and he hadn’t seen the signs at first. He and Gavin would fuck around a lot, and he would end up on the end of Geoff’s dick at least once a day. He fucking loved it, really, but it had bothered him that he never saw Geoff and Gavin together. They’d all pass out in the same bed together, yeah, but it seemed like the other two were sneaking around. 

  
  


He’d been afraid he’d given them the wrong impression and had started paying closer attention to see if he was giving off weird signals. 

  
  


It wasn’t like he and Gavin fucked a lot, maybe once every couple days, but it only took a few times before Michael realized something. Gavin didn’t get hard when they were together, not fully at least. He knew it was common to get half chub while taking it up the ass but something about it didn’t sit right at the time. Then he figured it out. 

  
  


Gavin didn’t get off. Not ever. 

  
  


xXx

  
  


“So what’s wrong?” Michael demanded. “Am I terrible or something? You just playin’ gay because of the gang? What is it?”

  
  


“Michael.” There was his name, butchered in that accent of his. He tried not to let Gavin’s cuteness win out the argument, as it always seemed to do. “It’s not all that, okay?”

  
  


“I’ve caused, like, zero boners, dude,” Michael forced out, feeling stupid already. “So what is it? What am I doing wrong? Are you…” He trailed off as a sickening thought hit him right in the gut. “Are you doing it out of some sort of obligation? Do you not want to do stuff with me and you’ve been, what, to fucking nice to say something? If I’m ugly, just say it.” 

  
  


“No, it’s nothing like that.” Gavin looked like he was struggling, “Well, I…”

  
  


He blanched, ice filling his gut at the thought of Gavin putting up with his lustful appetite.  _ I’m one of those guys that people just fuck to get them to shut up and leave them alone. Jesus Christ. _ “ You don’t  _ have  _ to do shit with me for us to work in this crew, Gav. You’re my friend first.”

  
  


“I love you, boy. That has nothing to do with mashing our bits together.” 

  
  


Michael sputtered, choking on his own spit as the words suddenly burst out of the Brit. Gavin was honest to God blushing and fiddling with his long, calloused fingers. Michael had never seen someone who’d shot a police officer point blank between the eyes before breakfast (on several occasions) looks so cute. He scrambled to get his voice back and to find the right words. He was confused but the last thing he wanted to do was drive Gavin further away. 

  
  


“Gav, if you don’t want to fuck-”

  
  


“It’s not that I don’t like it or don’t want to,” Gavin quickly promised before slowing down his words, knuckles going white as he attempted to reign himself in. “Wouldn’t roll around with you like that if I didn’t. I just don’t really get off on it. Or get off on anything, really…” 

  
  


Gavin trailed off, teeth catching the side of his lip as he saw the confusion written across his boyfriend’s face. “I like making you feel good, if that makes any sense? I like being close with you like that, Michael.”

  
  


He was blushing even harder now and Michael found even more puzzled. Gavin’s voice dropped down to a nervous murmur. “I may get a bit stiff sometimes but I don’t, uh, feel it, really. Not like you do.”

  
  


Michael frowned thoughtfully, worry still pinching his brow. “Are you sick or something? Does your junk not work or something?”

  
  


“Christ on a stick!” Gavin blustered in a sudden angry burst, hands tossing themselves down at his side. Michael idly thought that if this was an anime movie, his boy’s hair would be standing on end and everything from the neck up would be blood red. “Are you being intentionally thick? I’m not bloody sick, Michael, I’m ace!”

  
  


Michael’s mouth hung open dumbly, stunned. Out of all the things he expected Gavin to say, that was out of left field. The metaphorical gears in his brain felt rusted together, straining and trying to process exactly just what he’d heard. They’d been together a lot, fooled around for a long time before they actually fucked. Gavin had never said a word. He knew what ‘asexual’ meant and the full realization made him sick to his stomach. His throat burned and his hands clenched into fists.

  
  


“You hate sex and you’ve let me do all that to you?” Michael bit out. “What the fuck, you stupid idiot! Why didn’t you say something?!”

  
  


“I’m not repulsed,” Gavin huffed, teeth flashing in a grimace of frustration. “I like getting you off, alright? I just don’t feel the need to bother with my knob is all. I’ll give it a grab now and then but I just don’t feel all that need to follow through.” 

  
  


Michael took a few moments to breathe out the irritation, to put himself back together and really listen. His own worry and insecurities were a loud buzz in his head and he needed to pay attention to Gavin, to listen and believe him. Otherwise this whole thing between them would never work. “You weren't’ grossed out while we were doing stuff, were you?”

  
  


Gavin shook his head, hands back to fiddling but now with the edge of his shirt. “No, boy. I like making you feel like that. I like the before and after bits a lot too.” 

  
  


“Well, that’s good, that shit is fun.” Michael tried to make light but there was a question weighing heavy on his mind. “Does Geoff know?” 

  
  


“ ‘Course he does,” Gavin scoffed with a grin, tilting his chin up in his usual smugness. “Think that old, pervy codger could keep his hands off me the second I agreed to be in this little club?” 

  
  


The tension in the room broke as they shared a laugh, the joke cutting through the thick spell and setting them free enough to breathe. Michael’s chuckles died down and he stepped close enough to tentatively grab the Brit’s hand. With a little tug he lead him over to the bed so they could sit down. It was hard for either of them to be lovey-dovey with each other. There were a lot of heartbreaks and backstabs under their belts from past lovers, or those they thought were. They were still building layers of trust in the crew. It had only been half a year but neither of them had ever felt this close to someone, or someones. From the loyalty toward their had grown love, or what they thought love was. Between them flourished the same complex feelings. 

  
  


But it was a rough world they lived in. They had to protect themselves. 

  
  


“So,” Michael started, fingers still laced with the other, both red-cheeked. “What are you okay with? Is there anything I can do...like, to you?” He scrubbed his free hand over his face. “Jesus, I’m an asshole. All those times you batted me away from your dick and I thought you were just eager to get on with it.” 

  
Gavin scooted closer and draped a leg between Michael’s own. He ran a thumb along Michael’s pierced lip, callouses catching on each stud of the snakebites to dimple the skin a bit. He gentled the other into a smooth kiss. 

  
  


A thumb tucked under a smooth jaw and Michael was gentled into a brief kiss. They bumped foreheads when they parted, each taking a heavy breath. 

  
  


“You’re going to poke me in the eye with that thing,” Michael snickered, the sound cutting out in a yelp as his upper ear was pinched, the silver stud there digging into his skin. “Hey!”

  
  


“Git,” Gavin shot back before softening. “Listen, boy. I really like kissing and being close, with or without the kit.”

  
  


“Stop speaking ‘Gavin’,” Michael muttered, hissing when his piercing got another sound pinch. They both laughed and he batted away the Brit’s troublesome fingers. “Making out is cool?”

  
  


Gavin nodded, looking much more relaxed. “Just stay away from my knob.” 

  
  


“Yeah, yeah, no junk touching,” Michael snorted. “Come here.”

  
  


He tugged Gavin down onto the bed until they laid facing each other, legs tangling up when they pulled them up onto the bed. Michael cupped the other’s bristled cheek and smiled fondly when it was nuzzled into. “Don’t ever let me do something you don’t want.”

  
  


“But Michael-”

  
  


“This isn’t just about you, Gav.” The words were said as gently as possible but Gavin still snapped his mouth closed. “This is about me too. How do you think I feel when we’ve done stuff and I’ve been really into it and you weren’t?”

  
  


Gavin frowned. “Oh.”

  
  


“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right. I’m not trying to make you feel like shit, I’m just saying that I feel bad about it, okay?” Michael heaved another sigh. “I feel like an idiot right now. It’s not nearly as hot to look back-”

  
  


“And what?” Gavin interrupted, sitting up and glaring down at the other Lad. “And know that I’m not some sex kitten?”

  
  


Michael sat up too, jaw flexing visibly beneath his skin with restraint before he spoke. “To look back and know my boy wasn’t enjoying it like I was. It makes me feel weird, okay? You can’t keep this shit from me, it’s important.” 

  
  


Gavin mulled it over before plopping back down, his boy following suit. “You’re right. About bollocksed it all up, didn’t I?”

  
  


“Nah.” Michael stretched out on the bed before flopping a hand on the Brit’s face to make him sputter. He grinned and tweaked his nose before getting a solid bite on the back of his hand. He jerked it away with a playful glare. “Hey! No biting!”

  
  


“Why?” Gavin teased, waggling his eyebrows. “Get you all hot and bothered?”

  
  


“Duh, dumbass, I love that shit.”

  
  


Gavin laughed and rolled onto his back, tucking an arm behind his head. “Alright, my lovely little boy, no biting.”

  
  


Michael’s sudden, sharp laugh startled him.

  
  


“ What?”  
  


“ Guess that means it’s up to me to keep up with the old man,” Michael snickered with a toothy grin. “Gotta’ get his hot, young tail somewhere.”

  
  


Gavin bunched him in the chest and after the initial  _ oof  _ he laughed even harder. 

  
  


xXxXxXx

It was the morning of a small heist, way too early for anyone to be up. Gavin hadn’t slept well from a bout of sudden nerves and was up with the first glimpse of the sun. He wiggled out from under Jack’s protective, sleeping hold and tugged on a pair of the man’s sweatpants before padding out down the hall toward the kitchen. He headed straight for the coffee pot. He wasn’t really one for caffeine but it was a rare moment where he felt like he needed it. The one they had was fancy thanks to Geoff and Michael’s coffee addiction, one side made for spurting out frothy cappuccinos and the other for rich, dark coffee. He poured in the grounds and milk along with a flavor cup, vanilla to hopefully cut through the taste. 

  
  


Gavin yawned and scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, shuffling bare feet on chilled tile. He glanced at the clock.  _ Seven AM? Bollocks. _ The machine bubbled and hissed away. His jaw cracked in a loud, exaggerated yawn and he stretched his arms high above his head to work out the kinks. He didn’t really register the sound of the cabinet or the patter of feet behind him. He jumped when a tattooed arm reached past him and placed his favorite bright green mug on the tray below the spout.

  
  


“You were about to make a mess, Gavvy.”

  
  


Gavin hummed at the husky voice. Rough palms slid along his bare waist and those inked arms coiled around his stomach. He smiled and slumped into Geoff, fingertips dancing over the designs. A stubbled chin hooked over his shoulder and he got a protective squeeze, soft stomach pressed to his lower back. He had always fit so well in the man’s arms and he loved it. 

  
  


Gavin sighed happily and reached up to play with messy dark hair. “Morning.”

  
He got a grunt and a scratchy kiss on the neck. “Give me a cup and a half and I’ll whip you up some biscuits.”

  
  


Gavin’s lashes lowered as he inhaled the fresh scent of coffee and the smell of Geoff’s sleep-warm body. “You’re so good to me.”

  
  


Geoff laid a palm on his jaw and turned his head, brushing their noses and pecking a chaste kiss on his lips. “ ‘M lucky to have you here, kid. Least let me feed you.”

  
  


He let out one of those fluttery noises and stole another brief kiss. “I want bacon too. That good kind with the maple syrup.”

  
  


“You got it.”

  
  


xXxXxXx

  
  


Dan put his hand on the handle of his bedroom door but didn’t push down. He shuddered and leaned against the door, forehead and shoulders clunking. His brain was mush and his muscles felt liquid, knees shaking in a struggle to hold his weight.

  
  


This mission had been a rough one. It was a pure hunt. Ray was their best sniper by far but Dan was Geoff’s bloodhound. He was good at tracking and following a target to their gruesome end, sticking to their scent until he had them between his teeth. He had a fixation, a determined need to finish a job once it was given to him. And he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. 

  
  


The assignment had been brutal. An eight hour stakeout had turned into an almost twenty-four hour one, along with a motorcycle chase, two failed attempt sniper station set ups, a few hundred bucks of shush-money, and finally a mile chase down that led him to him digging his knife into the target’s spine rather than shooting him from afar like planned. All in San Andreas, a city he fucking hated with a passion now that he knew Church (that damn drug lord) had his greasy fingers in the city’s underbelly. Dan hated him with every fiber of his being, and that city along with it.

  
  


He opened his door and got the smell of his room. Gun oil, old jasmine from the laundry soap, the faint musk of his own cologne, and his boys. Male musk and sweat and warm skin, all wrapped up into a tingling feeling in the bottom of his heart that made everything worth it. That sense of community and family gave him strength.

  
  


After years of being alone, he finally had a support system, even if it was soaked in blood.

  
  


There was someone already in his bed. He saw the long, tan curve of a back that led boxer shorts with the British flag on them. Golden brown locks weren’t nearly as messy but that was a carefully styled birds nest that couldn’t be obtained by even the energetic Brit. Dan huffed and shed his gun bag and backpack, gloves and jacket following to pile messily on the carpet. He bent and tugged clumsily at his laces before he could step out of his shoes. 

  
  


Gavin stirred as he walked up to the bed. Sleepy eyes were scrubbed with a lazy palm as the other turned over to sprawl on his back to expose his furry torso and the scars that laced underneath it. Gavin looked a little confused at first, face stiffen in alert before slackening once he realized it was his friend.

  
  


“B.” It was a pleased, sleepy rasp. “You didn’t come back so I decided to keep watch. I would’ve come help you but Geoff wouldn’t let me, said you had it covered.” 

  
  


Dan grunted. He was tired down to his bones and he could do little more than trudge over. His eyes roamed over Gavin in an almost instinctive move to check his friend for wounds. Gavin was a lucky, slick little otter and hardly ever got hurt too terribly. His friend looked like sluggish sunshine, one hand reaching out for him while the other tucked behind his head. Dan put his knee on the bed and listened as the other babbled about his day, the pistols he’d traded with Lindsay for cotton candy and how he had found a new secondary look-out for Geoff to evaluate. Some kid named Kerry. 

  
  


Dan puffed out a sigh as he swung his right leg over and effectively straddled the boy’s waist. His weighted stare made Gavin quiet down but that little smile never faded. An understanding had developed between them since Dan returned, that his throat injury had taken two years of speech from him and that it was hard trying to get back into the habit of actually talking. Gavin was a tactile creature, he had quickly grown accustomed to touches and looks becoming the brunt of conversations. 

  
  


Dan reached down and flicked Gavin’s gauged lobe. “These still look rubbish.”

  
  


Gavin pouted and swatted him away, rubbing over the stinging skin. The plug was a simple black with a green star printed on it to mimic the outlined star tattoo on everyone in the gang. He’d gotten them on a bet, challenging Michael to eat eighty Peeps, but instead of money he’d laid his lobes on the line. He’d lost within a few minutes thanks to his boyfriend’s strong constitution and had strangely ended up liking them. Aware of his boy’s impulsive nature, Geoff had set a hard limit for how big he could go. Small enough to grow closed just in case they had to one day go into hard hiding. “Don’t be a prat. I like them. Makes me look all edgy, yeah?”

  
  


Dan gave a small snort and pointedly sat on him with his full weight. Gavin made a mocking sound before reaching up to snag the dark green scarf still wrapped up around the other’s neck. He snagged one end and started to give gentle tugs to ease the material away. It clung to the Brit’s throat and one loop slid away with ease, but once the first glimpse of scarred flesh peeked out the other end was tightly fisted. Dan’s stare was sharp but it only made him smile more.

  
  


“Come on, love, don’t be like that,” Gavin urged, pulling a little more firmly. “It’s just me here. You’re home and safe.”

  
  


Dan pursed his lips before grabbing the bottom of his shirt and lifting it off, tossing it somewhere. The scarf loosened up but didn’t quite let go. Gavin felt a guilty pang at the litter of scars across his chest, physical reminders that he’d left his best friend with no word, that he’d broken his heart and left him all alone for this terrible world. Some of them were covered up by ink - a solid black sniper rifle up his ribs, metal stars darted above it, the Royal Logistics Corps crest branded in full detail on his left arm, and when he tugged off his scarf completely Gavin could see the Army-brand stamp of  _ We Sustain _ across his inner wrist. It was Gavin’s favorite because he knew Dan hated it. A drunk stumble into town when they were still in basic and Dan spouting about how much he wanted to pass his technical school to get into the RL Corps. To prove it, he’d gotten their motto in the dumbest spot he could think of (and so had his equally drunk friends). 

  
  


The scar.  _ God, I’ll never get used to the sight of it. _

  
  


The scar across Dan’s throat was long, from one side to the other to kiss arteries. The skin was bunched and pinched, pinkish suture scars striping across it in places. The wound scar was still red, whitened in random patches. The ends were deeply puckered and ragged from frantic, drug-induced picking. The coke had been one of the only things Dan had admitted to in their years of being apart but mostly because he’d been caught nearly red-handed. It was a grotesque badge of survival his Daniel wore, and even when he winced at the sight of it he felt a swell of pride.

  
  


Gavin ran his hands up the other’s stomach and chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solid plane of muscle before his fingertips brushed the scar. Dan sighed out hard but the touch was reverent and loving so he made himself relax, accepting the caress. Gavin sat up and laid a chaste kiss on those pink lips. He tried to brand the affection he felt for him  onto his skin with each kiss, letting them trail down until they pressed onto the scar. The skin was shiny and unusually smooth but he bussed his lips all along it, promising with each sigh that he loved his “B”.  

  
  


“When will you tell me about this, hm?” Gavin breathed hotly against a wide patch of scar, eyes halved and dark as he thought of what kind of force it would take to split the flesh ragged enough to make such an irregular wound pattern. “When will you tell me who wrote their death warrant by marking up my sweet Daniel?”

  
  


In one smooth move, Daniel snagged the boy’s shoulder and pushed him flat to the bed. Gavin sucked in a breath and made a mental list of every weapon in the room, from the pistol under the pillow to the throwing knives in the dresser. And then, quick as a flash, he sighed and let that defensive instinct go. Dan leaned over him with a solemn set to his brow and a firmly set jaw, but he was in no danger. 

  
  


“I’m not your sweet Daniel anymore.”

  
  


There was a breathless moment between them before Dan’s eyes closed and fell forward. Gavin huffed out a laugh as he was flopped on but he caught him as best he could, petting though dark hair when Dan buried his face in his chest. There was an exasperated sigh before Dan turned his head and rested his cheek against the softly furred skin. 

  
  


“You’ll always be my Dan,” Gavin whispered, cheeks a little ruddy as he realized how mushy he sounded. It was only deep within their communal compound did any of them feel safe enough to show this softer side of themselves. Outside that door they hardened themselves and protected each other as comrades, as brothers. Only when they were home did they share biting kisses and wrap up tight in one another. Gavin had always been a lap cat but he’d never let himself trust anyone as much as he trusted his crew. 

  
  


Finding one partner who accepted that he was ace? Difficult. Finding six who not only accepted it but respected him and took time to learn his limits and affections? Miraculous. 

  
  


“ I love you,” Gavin whispered so quietly that almost  _ he  _ couldn’t hear it. “I’m glad you survived, that the world brought you back to me.”

  
  


“ _ I _ brought me back,” Dan grumbled, shifting around until he could wrap his arms around the other Brit. 

  
  


Gavin tried not to laugh at how Dan seemed to pout and fuss as he clung to him. 

  
  


xXxXxXx

  
  


Everyone knew that if you left Ray and Gavin alone for more than a few minutes, one of them was bound to find some kind of weed and the other would find a heat source to light it with. They weren’t exactly addicted, but with their high-stress, high-adrenaline lifestyle they were both keen to take lazy breaks where the smoke not only filled their lungs but their minds. Draped over one another and high, they could temporarily forget all the bloodshed and the empty-eyed stare of the corpses that lined their path of current success. 

  
  


Gavin was draped over his back and kissing lightly along a tan neck. Ray was sitting crosslegged on his back and tinkering with his new scope, tools spattered on the sheet beside his knee right next to the empty bong. He was adding his own attachment to his favorite gun and there were specific screws he needed to add to the new setting that would keep it firmly attached. There was a stack of pistols in front of them that needed their serial numbers filed away along with a bunch of minor repairs. Dan was their main gunman and Jack could fix damn near anything, but they were both familiar enough with weaponry at this point to make a bunch of minor tweaks. At least enough to to sell them for a profit.  

  
  


Gavin swung around and climbed into the other’s lap, brushing their noses briefly before catching him in a bitter kiss. Their movements were slow, languid, and the scope was set aside so he could hold the Brit close. Gavin’s long fingers curled in dark hair, tugging playfully and blunt fingers scratching along his nape. Their tongues and lips were pretty dry, reminding them in a way to drink some water eventually. The Brit moved in an instinctive grind, wiggling and rubbing up against his boyfriend just for the feel of him against him. 

  
  


“X-Ray,” Gavin drawled in his ear.

  
  


“Vav,” Ray mimicked.

  
  


“You are a cute little spitfuck,” Gavin teased, pinching a plump cheek.

  
  


Ray laughed and flicked his hand away. “Michael is rubbing off on you.”

  
  


Gavin got a mischievous glint in his eyes before completely wrapping himself around Ray, legs hooking tight around his waist and arms around his shoulders. Gavin rested his head on him but made a small noise when he felt something pressing between his legs. It took him way too long to realize Ray was hard. He pulled back with a furrowed brow, noting the extra red on his boyfriend’s cheeks. “Aw, X-Ray. Want me to give you a little rub, love?”

  
  


Ray’s smile was as warm as heat of the city that threatened to lick into their windows. He cupped Gavin’s cheek and tugged him into another brief kiss. “I’m good.”

  
  


“ You sure?”  
  
“ Yeah, I’m good,” Ray replied honestly, a hand rubbing gently between his shoulder blades. “This is just fine.”

  
  


Gavin grinned and kissed at his jaw. “You should do those pistols or Daddy’s going to spank you.” He sat back and enjoyed the bright red blush on his boyfriend’s face. “Look at you-

 

“Shut up and fill the bowl again, birdbrain.”

  
  


xXxXxXx

  
  


It was supposed to an easy mission.

  
  


Jack was just supposed to steal a helicopter, lift a crate of semi-automatics from the warehouse while Michael’s fire across the lot distracted everyone on base. While the soldiers were trying to douse the flames in their main office buildings, Jack would raid the hanger and take the copter, disable GPS, lift the cargo and get out before anyone knew better. By the time they realized what had happened, Fake AH would be scattered to the wind with a new load of guns.

  
  


Gavin was on a bridge. He  _ really  _ wasn’t supposed to be. Everyone was supposed to scatter, everyone except for Lindsay. She was nearby in a van that was roaring and ready to go. He stared out over the slice of ocean that broke up this island from the other one that held the military base. Jack was supposed to come over the water, but that was five minutes ago. Jack was all about timing and he was getting seriously worried. He was honestly supposed to be heading to their hideout outside the city where they would all chill out for a few days but he had a sick feeling in his gut. 

  
  


There it was. Black and sleek but smoking, wobbling in the sky. It looked like it had taken a hit on the way out. The machine sputtered and jolted toward the drop-off point and  it got close enough where Gavin could see the outline of his boyfriend through the glass. There was a visible struggle to keep control of the helicopter and it wavered hard, getting closer but also lower. 

  
  


And then it happened. The helicopter dropped out of the sky. It hit the water with a burst of fire and then waves.

  
  


Gavin’s heart dropped hard down into his belly, shattering, cutting like shards of glass as it clenched up. His hands came up off the rail and shuddered toward his gaping mouth, fingertips barely brushing his lips before he screamed. Terror struck him and he surged at the rail, slapping his hands on it and leaning over. “Jack!”

  
  


The helicopter was smothered up by the water in one full swoop, disappearing in a surge of froth. He waited breathless, but there was no sign of Jack. 

  
  


“ You bloody idiot! How hard is it to drive a fucking helicopter?” Gavin’s voice hitched roughly on the last word. “Stupid,  _ stupid _ .” He smacked his palms on the railing, skin stinging on the smooth metal. He gave a dry heave at the thought of Jack’s lungs swollen with the filthy water in this strip of ocean trying to kiss into the city. He dropped down onto his elbows and sobbed, eyes clenched shut and lashes we. 

  
  


“Jack,” Gavin whined brokenly, drawing out the name until it cracked. he ducked his head to hide the ugly grimace plastered over his face. His knees shook pathetically and he thought he was sure he’d collapse. He heard splashing below him, more than usual, but he couldn’t register it under the weight of his chest threatening to collapse. There was an echo at first, but then a real voice.

  
  


“Gavin!”

  
  


He sniffed sharply and hastily wiped his eyes. 

  
  


“Gavin, seriously!”

  
  


He straightened up and looked around for a few moments before he bothered to look down. There below him, treading water, was Jack. The man was soaked and glaring up at him, beard hilariously sopping. “Would you knock it off for five seconds and go get the rope ladder from the van and, I don’t know,  _ help me up _ !”

  
  


Gavin squawked in surprise before jumping to action, long legs eating up the distance to the van. Lindsay didn’t even look surprised as he threw open the back doors and started to rifle through the supplies. “Rope ladder is in the black bag against the side there.”

  
  


“ You weren’t worried he’d-?”  


  
“ Not a chance.” She tapped at her phone, no doubt telling Geoff what had happened. “Jack’s going out two ways - of old age in his sleep, or absolutely surrounded by cops or gangsters and taking down as many as he can get his knife in.” She locked her phone and stuffed it in her pocket. “Now go heave the bastard up and let’s get out of here.”

  
  


Gavin snatched the bag and ran back to the edge of the bridge, fumbling with the straps to get it open on his way. It was made of chains and metal plates and held up well as he tossed it over the edge. He held it as steady as he could manage as Jack latched on and started to climb. Jack was sloshing and absolutely livid when he got to the top. He heaved over the railing and quickly dragged the ladder up, rolling it along his arm before sliding the whole thing off and stuffing it into the bag.

  
  


Gavin tried to hug him but he got snagged by the nape, dragging him toward the van and leaving a heavy trail of water behind him. “What the hell are doing here? You should be back at the safehouse by now! Do you have any idea how many cops are on their way here now? How  _ stupid  _ it is for more than two of us to be together at one time?” He opened up one of the doors and practically tossed the Brit inside. “What if another gang had gotten wind of this? They would’ve got you and Lindsay both and used you guys against each other. Did you  _ ever  _ think of that?” 

  
  


Jack piled himself into the van and slammed the doors closed. Lindsay took off without hesitation, squealing off the bridge and down a side rode, into the hills. Jack grabbed a dirty towel in a pile of tarps to scrub at his hair and arms, glaring at the other in the back with him. “Well? Did you?”

  
  


Gavin’s expression was full of barely restrained misery. It stung, and Jack softened up as he always did under the love he felt for his boys. He snagged the Brit by the ugly yellow and pink shirt and dragged him closer, forcing him to crawl into his lap. Gavin resisted for only a few moments before he latched onto his boyfriend, cringing at the feel of wet beard against his skin but holding tight. 

  
  


“I thought you were dead,” he croaked.

  
  


“So did I for a minute,” Jack admitted reluctantly, damp fingers threading into product-stuff hair and along his back. “But I’m okay, I’m right here.”

  
  


Gavin grabbed his cheek and dragged him into a firm kiss that left him breathless. He chased those lips when they left and hazel eyes were bright, focused on him. 

  
  


“Don’t scare me like that again, you mingy little prick.”

  
  


Jack couldn’t stop the smile that broke over his face. “I’ll try.”

  
  


xXxXxXx

  
  


Jeremy had been a tattoo apprentice under Geoff for years before the gang was formed. With his people skills and successful shop, he wasn’t just the perfect money laundering service but also the crew’s main tat man (besides the Boss, that was). He had an underling or two but he liked to keep his personal touch on the customers to guarantee his quality reputation stayed in place. 

  
  


He had Lindsay currently laid out on his table with most of the outline for her fierce, Mayan-esque phoenix. It was a pretty big piece - the body down her spine, sharp beak open and swirling fire curling along the small of her back, wings fanning around her ribs, gorgeous tail sweeping between her shoulder blades. It was one of his best pieces and Lindsay was a damn good customer. She tipped heavy and never squirmed around, didn’t complain about his music, and was genuinely pleasant to have around for extended periods of time. 

  
  


And here in the back room of the shop, they could gossip. 

  
  


Jeremy loaded up the last of the black ink to finish the outline, the first start of color already waiting on the tray. The gun was dead silent when he revved it up though he did give it a minute to listen for any irregularities before touching needle to skin. “So let me get this straight…”

  
  


“Here we go again,” Lindsay drawled, absently playing an app on her phone. 

  
  


“ They’re all kind of...together?” Jeremy continued, asking once more about the core of the crew. He got an answering hum. “Even Gavin?”  
  


“ Yep.”

 

“But Geoff’s, like, a sex fiend?” he insisted. 

  
  


She nodded a little. “Old man does love gettin’ laid.”

  
  


Jeremy tisked thoughtfully and carved out the cold rage in the eyes of the phoenix. “But he doesn’t do stuff with Gavin?”

 

“ Jesus, Jeremy,” Lindsay growled out, the rough sound surprising him. “What kind of fucking idiot are you? Sex isn’t  _ everything _ , dumbass. And Gavin’s wired differently.  _ Not  _ like it’s any of your business.” She shot a smirk over her shoulder. “You couldn’t get laid with both hands and a flashlight.”

  
  


Jeremy huffed. “You leave my fleshlight out of this.”

  
  


Lindsay’s snicker cut off when she felt the sharp sting of the needle scribbling across her skin. “Don’t you fuck up the outline just to get me to shut up.”

  
  


The needle softened up to its usual pressure. “It sounds nice.”

  
  


She frowned thoughtfully. 

  
  


“To just love without all the messy parts, I mean,” Jeremy clarified, carving out a few extra feathers.

  
  


Lindsay hummed again more thoughtfully. “I like the messy parts.”

  
  


“Me too, don’t get me wrong,” Jeremy backtracked, being careful to craft some texture on the feathers. “But it’d be nice not to worry about all those parts.” He paused to let out a huff. “I’m going to meet my soulmate and I’m going to be too busy looking up her skirt to notice. Eyes are the windows to the soul, my friend. Those are true words.” 

  
  


Lindsay sucked in a big breath and he backed off a bit, afraid she was feeling the pain too deep today. Instead, she let out a long groan of  _ gay  _ until she sagged completely against the table. 

  
  


He grinned and gave her ribs a pinch, making her yelp. “Oh fuck you.”

  
  


xXxXxXx

  
  


“Where are they?” 

  
  


The growl in Gavin’s voice left no room for mercy, not a speck of sympathy in his lilt. The man (O’Keefe, he was pretty sure) sprawled on the ground was twice his size and dazed from a few choice hits from the bloody metal pipe laying a few feet away. Fed up with the other criminal’s blubbering, Gavin trudged over him and stomped his boot on a flailing hand to pin it in place. O’Keefe wailed as bones gave way under the force but Gavin was determined to keep him still. He clamped a hand on the man’s throat and kept him pinned to the pavement, leaning over him and locking their eyes. Whatever look had been on his face, it made the other flinch. 

  
  


“ One hundred top-of-the-line M203 grenade launchers, and two crates of the finest military grenades I’ve ever lifted -  _ gone _ ,” Gavvy snapped, a tight fist of cold fury in his chest. “I know you and your buddies raided my drop off point. Mingy little campers, you lot.” He pressed his thumb hard into the man’s trachea, feeling how the stiff muscle yielded under his strength. “Tell me where my crates are.”

  
  


O’Keefe shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

  
  


“Sure you do, you’re a smart guy,” Gavin mocked, grinding his heel against the man’s palm and the edge of his knuckles to get them to pop and try to crack. “Just tell me where you stored them. You couldn’t have moved them this fast so I know they’re just sitting around.”

  
  


O’Keefe wheezed loudly, eyes starting to bulge as his air was cut off. 

  
  


“Come on, now,” Gavin’s grin was strained, his tone like souring sugar. “Tell me where the guns are.” When the man only spouted the same crap about not knowing, Gavin wrapped both hands around his thick throat and put his weight on it, small satisfaction slithering under the rage. He bared his teeth in a sneer and dug his fingers in. “Where’s. My. Cargo?”

. 

“I-I don’t-”

  
  


“ _ Don’t  _ you fucking tell me you don’t know again, I swear to Christ.”

  
  


“Gav...”

  
  


Gavin let go of O’Keefe’s neck and stood up straight, frowning thoughtfully. He looked over his shoulder and smiled nervously at the long, dark line of Dan’s form against the shadowed corner of the makeshift hall between the haul crates on the dock. The bright glow of a cigarette cast a shadow on a square jaw and bedroom eyes, soon covered in a blueish cloud of smoke. O’Keefe was whimpering with his gross, spit-slicked mouth - hand wiggling wildly under Gavin’s shoe. He crunched down tight and neither of the Brits so much as blinked at the throaty, pained scream that rattled around them. 

  
  


“You gonna’ rat me out, B?” Gavin needled, lips pursed in frustration at being caught. He’d been hoping to settle this before Geoff found out and he was loathe to admit he’d let the shipment get lifted because he and Ray were too busy getting high in the moving van not five hundred feet away. They’d completed the deal together and had decided to celebrate before loading things up. It had been a dumb mistake, one he’d tried to correct by himself.

  
  


Dan shook his head, pinching the cigarette for one last drag before tossing it aside. Sparks danced off the pavement before Dan walked over, looking calm as ever. Gavin had been skilled at reading his best friend at one point, long before those dark days of white powder and whatever had caused that nasty throat scar. The mark was covered up by a navy blue scarf with silver trim (a gift from Jack, he was sure), and still it felt like a barrier between them. Whatever had happened to Dan in the army had truly changed him, jaded him. There were still layers to claw through but they seemed to get closer with every day that passed.

  
  


One day, he hoped Dan would tell him the story of what happened in all those years they were apart.

  
  


Dan dug into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, sheathed knife. “Here.”

  
  


Gavin hesitantly took it, flicking open the latch with his thumb and tugging the blade out a few inches to examine it. His lips ticked down in a frown before looking back at his friend. “Flaying knife?”

  
  


“Yep.” Dan traced a thumb down the center of his own chest. “Follow the sternum. It’s no different from carving a chicken. Stay shallow below the pec. Shoulders and forearms are preferable.”

 

Gavin’s smirk was as sharp as any beak. “Thanks.”

  
Dan actually broke a smile. He took out a fresh pack of cigs and beat it exactly three times against his palm. “Anytime, B.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my lovely Peach, I'm glad it made your birthday better <3


End file.
